Cravings
by TentativelyKate
Summary: A very pregnant and notsohappy Arwen sends her sleepdeprived husband and the braincelldeprived Faramir out to find some Calahadian cake. But milk, women, and family recipes inadvertently get in their way. Tolkien might just want my head for this.


**Cravings**

**disclaimer: they're not mine, no. another sad element in my sad life. tolkien owns everything (the whore).**

Midnight. Aragorn could tell just by the height of the moon outside his window that the day was over, and tomorrow had become today.

"Happy Monday," He said to himself, rolling back over onto his side in bed and trying to ignore the stir-crazy feelings in his feet. He hadn't been able to sleep for hours, and he was just itching to go for a walk. Whenever he couldn't sleep, going out onto the terrace and taking a stroll among the guards was enough to assure him he could sleep easy that night. He tried to convince himself otherwise, telling himself it was a stupid idea. The added weight of his wife's condition had put a little more stress into his life, but just enough to make him think perhaps walking wasn't enough to calm his nerves. And Arwen would have a fit if she woke up in the night and discovered he wasn't there.

He looked over at his wife, smiling to himself as he watched her sleep. Her chest moved slowly up and down, the rhythm of her breathing almost enough to make him want to sleep again. Her hand was resting gently over her swollen belly, fingers laid out flat as if they were touching the baby themselves. A small smile came across her sleeping lips, and he laughed before kissing her on the cheek, propping himself up on his elbow to stare at her. This was the first time in seven months he had ever been the one awake, and she the one sleeping away.

Seven months pregnant and Arwen was normally always the restless one, going to the bathroom, taking a walk around the room, trying to itch a spot on her back she was now unable to reach, in constant activity until morning. She never woke him up unless she considered it an emergency, but as of late, every single time the baby did so much as move a finger she was wide awake and alert as ever. He smiled again at such a rare moment, to find her peacefully laying up against him, their whole world resting within her. He laid his hand on top of hers, kissing her again, and then fell back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. As the darkness began to sink in, he smiled and found himself for the first time in days falling asleep. For almost an hour he lay in his dreams, until-

"Estel!" Deep in the sweet warmth of dreaming, the abnormal hiss in his ear brought his eyes open immediately. He let out a yell and jumped up, falling out of his bed and onto the floor, dragging the covers with him.

"Damn..." He said, shaking out his foggy head and rubbing the bottom of his spine where he had landed on the stone floor.

"By the goddess!" Arwen's head appeared above his as she peered over the bedside. "Oh no! Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" She whispered, holding out a hand and helping him back onto the bed.

"No, no." He said, wincing as he sat down on his tailbone, now throbbing. "I'm fine." He lied, giving her a smile.

"Goddess, you're not." She said, covering her mouth with her hand and noticing where he rubbed his back. "I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to startle you. I shouldn't have-"

"No, don't worry about it." He said, kissing her on the forehead. "Did you need something?" He said, pulling the blankets off the floor and back around his half-naked body, now shivering from the cold floor and autumn air outside his warm bed.

"Oh..." Arwen turned a deep shade of red and avoided eye contact with her husband. Aragorn could only imagine. "You see darling, I just had this sudden feeling, and I...well...do you remember the dish the Calihadians brought the other night?"

"You mean that goat stew thing?" He said, raising an eyebrow. "The one with the finger in it?"

"No dear, that was the Haradrim who brought that. I'm talking about the people of Calihad, the ones from the mountains. They brought that wonderful dessert..."

"Oh, I remember. What about it?"

"Well, I was lying here and suddenly I had the most wonderful craving for that dessert. With all of the sweet sauce on the top, and the berry filling, and the fluffy cake..." She smiled happily and rubbed her belly. "Doesn't it sound delicious?"

"Well, maybe after lunch tomorrow..." He said, shaking his head. "I don't know if we can go get that right now-" He began, but realized too late that was obviously not the thing to say. Arwen's face was getting redder and that familiar flame was building in her eyes. He swallowed hard. "I mean, uh...maybe...uh..."

"Are you going to get me some of that dessert or NOT?" She said, her eyes glowing evilly in the moonlight. She was leaning so far forward in the bed that her chin was practically touching his own. He would have said something about pregnant emotions under his breath, but she was so close now there was no way she would have missed that.

"I know you want it sweetie," He said, rubbing the back of his head nervously and avoiding direct contact with those burning eyes. "But you don't understand...the kitchens aren't really open and I don't even know if that's where they put the leftovers, and really, it's so early in the morning that-"

"Oh, so you wouldn't even go see if they were? You'd just SIT here and SLEEP while your wife sat in PAIN?" She said, sticking her finger into his chest. "What, do you think I ENJOY this, this horrible feeling in my gut that tells me if I never see that cake I'm going to DIE? That my whole life depends on that one piece of cake that my husband couldn't even get up to go see about?" She let out a snort. "And you won't even go see about it."

"I would if I could, darling..." He said softly, placing a hand on her arm. She quickly removed it, now fuming. Despite her anger, his bed was seeming a bit like a warm and soft womb itself, and he was extremely reluctant to leave it. Besides that, his tailbone hurt like hell. Unfortunately, his wife's pregnant temper far outweighed any of his decisions, as usual.

"You are a DISGRACE, Estel! You are the bloody KING and you think the kitchens won't open for YOU! Do you think it's been EASY, carrying this child? Granted we're not even the same SPECIES and I've had cravings up to my NECK and all YOU can think about is the walk down there!" She screamed, sticking her finger farther into his chest and making him fear her fingernail was likely to cut right into him. "Well, FINE! That's just FINE! This is the LAST child of YOURS I ever BEAR!"

And with that, when he knew her emotions had probably had enough and just as he had predicted, she slammed herself onto her pillow and began crying hysterically.

"Arwen..." He whispered, leaning over her and kissing her neck. She slapped him hard in the jaw, sending him reeling back in pain. He cursed loudly and grabbed his mouth. "I'm just trying to help!' He said, touching her arm again.

"YOU CAN HELP BY GETTING ME MY DESSERT!" She screamed, her tears miraculously gone and her temper now in full throttle once more.

Aragorn nodded weakly and crawled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of pants and slipped a tunic over his head, avoiding looking over at his wife, who sat with her arms crossed over her swollen belly in bed, her face gleaming like white fire in the night.

"I'll go get you some." He said softly, and she let out a squeal of delight and wrapped her arms around him as he slipped into his boots beside the bed.

"I love you, Estel!" She said, kissing him and holding onto his hands as he straightened up. He slowly turned around, yawning, but a quick slap in the behind sent him out the door, and he was down the hall at too fast a pace for his tired legs to keep up with. He quickly slowed and found himself yawning again.

The long walk to the kitchens was made longer as he yawned and stretched and tried to wake himself up. The fact that the halls' were completely empty except for him made it worse, and in the dim light of the stars and glowing torches he shuffled down to the kitchens.

_Fatherhood..._He thought to himself, staring at his boots. _The only hard part is dealing with motherhood. _

He thought about his child, sleeping upstairs within his mother's belly. Aragorn was certain it was a boy; the first thing Arwen had said when she'd told him the news was that she was sure it was a son, and anything Arwen said Aragorn knew had to be true. Being an elf, she probably knew better than he of what to expect and how to handle it, but she still let her wrath of pregnant motherhood out on him every once and a while, and did get a bit cranky from time to time. Still, it was forgivable as ever. He was too frightened to mention the word "emotional" or "moody" in front of her, but it was something that came along with the child. According to the healer, it would only be a few months or so until his son was born, and Arwen was finally beginning to feel her condition. Before she had been all smiles despite the pain, but now it had given way to mood swings and crankiness, both of which no husband in his right mind would dare point out to her.

Two more months...only two more. And then what? Then he would be a father. Of all his challenges in life, from defeating the dark lord, to ascending the throne, none had seemed as demanding and dangerous as raising a child. Of being a father. How was he going to do it?

After the winding spiral staircase behind the great hall, he finally reached the wooden door that led to the kitchens. He considered knocking, but in his tired mood and impatience, finally grabbed the handle and gave it a tug. It was locked.

"Oh no..." He groaned, resting his head on the door ahead of him. "No, no, no, no, no." He muttered, banging a fist against the door. _Arwen is going to kill me..._

"Aragorn?"

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and found Lord Faramir's face glowing in the faint torchlight. He was dressed in old leggings and a long tunic left untied in the front. His hair was sticking out all over the place and his eyes showed he was just as tired as Aragorn, but he gave his old friend a smile anyway.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and Aragorn gave him a weary grin.

"Getting some Calahadrian dessert." He said, "What else?"

"Dessert? At this time of the night?"

"Morning." Aragorn corrected him, yawning. "And yes, dessert. With sweet sauce and berry filling."

"Are you insane?" Faramir raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you really going to eat that this early, before breakfast?"

"I'm not eating it, the royal mommy upstairs is. And the kitchen is locked, which means I can't get it, which means mommy is going to skin daddy alive." He said, frowning. Faramir laughed.

"I guess I'm not the only one who gets hungry at night. I came down for a glass of milk." He looked at the door behind Aragorn, "It's not really locked, is it?"

"Apparently. I've never heard of the kitchen not working through the night, but with my luck, this is of course the one exception." He laid his tired head in his hands. "What am I going to do?"

"Why don't you just explain what happened? I'm sure Arwen will understand."

"She's pregnant and over-emotional and has had it up to about here." Aragorn said, holding his hand across his neck. "She understands nothing but dessert with berry filling."

Faramir laughed again.

"Well, you ARE the king. I'm sure if we found a servant you could get someone to open it for you."

"But everyone's asleep right now, and I'd hate to wake them up." He sighed. "I have no choice. I'll just have to walk back into the lion's den and say what I have to say."

"I'll come with you." Faramir said, starting up the staircase behind him. "If I can't get the milk, I might as well walk myself to sleep."

As they made the long shuffle upstairs, neither one talked. They were both exhausted, and could barely concentrate enough to keep thier eyes open and on thier feet. Once outside his bedroom, Aragorn let Faramir stay outside and slowly made his way into the room, dreading the conversation to come.

The moment he shut the door behind him Arwen was sitting straight up in the bed, her eyes wide and hungry.

"Did you get it?" She asked, quickly scanning him over. Seeing nothing in his hands, she raised an eyebrow. "Where is it?"

"Well darling, I walked all the way down to the kitchens, and I tried the door. The kitchen was closed up, and the doors were locked."

"So?" His wife said, as if this meant very little. "Then what?"

"Well, then I came back up."

"Empty-handed?" Her voice was beginning to sound tenser.

"Um, yes...empty-handed..."

"ESTEL!" She screamed, bearing down on him with eyes like fire. "I ask you to do this ONE SIMPLE THING and what do you DO? You COME BACK EMPTY-HANDED! You make NO EFFORT to find what I NEED and then you act like its NO BIG DEAL!" She grabbed his shirt collar. "I NEED MY DESSERT **_NOW_**!"

Aragorn crumpled to the ground, his legs folding up beneath him. Shoulders slumped, he let out a sigh.

"But there's no place to get it, darling..."

"Try the market!"

"It's too early, so the shops are all closed."

"**YOU ARE MAKING NO EFFORT!"**

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." He stood up and kissed her on the forehead. "It's just… there really is no place to get it. I swear to you, I will get you anything else that I can, but I cannot get you this dessert. I just can't Arwen, its impossible."

"Have you tried the Calihidians?"

"I don't think they just carry the dessert on them, sweetheart..." He said softly, taking her hands in his. Best to keep her emotionally calm while dishing out the bad news. "And besides, they're all asleep-"

"WELL, I'M **NOT**! AND IF YOU THINK THAT'S FAIR, YOU SHOULD TRY LIVING IN MY SHOES FOR A DAY!" She screamed, pushing him away. "I SWEAR YOU ARE NEVER FATHERING A CHILD ON ME **AGAIN**!"

Aragorn groaned again.

"I'll do anything sweetie, it's just this...I can't get **_this_**. Not tonight at least."

Arwen took a long, deep breath. Aragorn held his own, hoping this was the end of the storm. But it was only the eye.

"YOU...WILL...GET...ME...THIS...NOW." She said, lowering her voice. "IF YOU THINK I CAN STAND ANOTHER MINUTE WITHOUT IT, YOU ARE DEAD **WRONG**!" She screeched, and heaved him out the door, despite his digging his heels in as much as possible. The door slammed behind him once he was in the hall.

"Well, that sounded productive." Faramir said, looking down at his friend and helping him to his feet. "What did she say?"

"Don't tell me you didn't hear all that." He said, gesturing to the closed door.

"Well, I did...but I figured she'd suggested somewhere to get the dessert."

"Besides the closed market and sleeping Calihadians, no."

"Where are you going to get it then?"

"Who says I'm going to get it? I can't! It's impossible!"

"Aragorn, she's your wife, and she's carrying your child." Faramir raised an eyebrow and gave Aragorn a discerning look.

"Oh great!" Aragorn threw up his hands. "Not you too! Don't you people understand? It's impossible to get to this dessert. I'd have to ride all the way to Calihad, wake someone up, and then ride all the way back."

"So do it."

"What, are you kidding?" Aragorn turned and stared at Faramir. "At this time of the morning? It takes days to get there!"

"You're King Ellesar! You defeated Sauron, regained the throne of Gondor, and now you're going to be a father. These sorts of things never stopped you before."

"Trust me Faramir, the wrath of every stinking balrog of Morgoth combined is nothing compared to an emotionally distraught elf. Especially a pregnant one." He sighed, "I mean, she was always stubborn before, but now there's no changing her mind, even if lives are on the line. It's her way or no way, and even if it's impossible, if she's set her heart on it...well...I'm doomed."

"Why don't you just try the market?"

"It's closed."

"Most of the taverns in this city aren't, and there's hundreds of them just a few steps away from your door. One of them must serve such a dish." Faramir smiled suddenly. "In fact, I'll bet you anything we'll find what you need in a place a few terraces down. They serve just about everything you can eat in Gondor, and Calihad's in the province." He clapped Aragorn on the back. "I'm okay to go since Eowyn won't be awake for a few more hours, and your wife's waiting anyway, so there's no time to waste."

"Well, alright." Aragorn said, nodding slowly. "But if I go, I'll need my cloak-"

The door behind them swung open and a black blur of fabric hit Aragorn squarely in the face. Pulling it from his eyes, he saw it was his cloak. The door slammed shut again.

"Do you think I should tell her I wanted my other boots?" He asked Faramir in a whisper, but the door opened again before he could go get them and a boot came flying out, landing at his feet. As he bent over to pick it up, another one flew out from the room and hitting him in the face, knocked him to the ground. As he sat up, nursing his jaw for the second time that night, the door slammed again and Arwen's voice yelled through the wood: "**AND DON'T BE LATE**!"

"I won't." Aragorn said, shaking his head with a smile and pulling the boots on. "Well," He said, turning to Faramir, "Ready for an adventure?"

Faramir shrugged. "Yes...I suppose..."

"Good. Let's go get junior some dessert."

"The fourteenth tavern, and still no sign of Calahadian cake." Aragorn groaned.

"Fifteenth." Faramir corrected him, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck as they trudged through the streets of Minas Tirith. They were in the worker's district, and the taverns here weren't exactly upper class, but after checking every other tavern and market above here, they'd had no luck and resorted to just about any place. "Well, you have to admit, that pastry thing at the last one was pretty close. It had berry filling and sweet sauce."

"But no cake. Arwen's not going to accept anything but the real deal, Faramir. Which means we're doomed."

"You say that too much." Faramir said, grabbing his friend's shoulder. "Lighten up, Aragorn. You never know what we'll find down here. Maybe there's some exotic foods place that's open at this time of the morning."

"Yes, just like pigs flying there is." Aragorn said, looking around at the dark windows of stores and workhouses.

"Wait." Faramir grabbed the back of Aragorn's cape, stopping mid-step. "See that place over there?" He pointed to a small tavern door, tucked between two large warehouses. "Its called...well, I can't pronounce what its called but it says exotic on the door. Like exotic foods! Sounds perfect!" He started for it, but Aragorn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Whoa there, Faramir. There are quite a few meanings for "exotic", and in this district alone I can name at least four I've seen in usage-"

"Don't worry, we're grown men." Faramir said, patting the sword tied around his hip. He reached for the handle and pulled open the door, showing a torch lit staircase leading underground.

"Yeah, but we're also married, and that's what worries me more." Aragorn said, biting his lip as he followed Faramir down the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs stood an iron door, looking like someone had stolen it from a prison cell, and after Faramir knocked, a small slot at the top opened and two eyes peered out at them.

"Yes?" A gruff voice said, and the eyes darted from Faramir, smiling widely, to Aragorn, wringing his hands.

"We're Lords Far-"

"Faraway and Artagono, sir." Aragorn cut it, stepping in front of a confused Faramir. Better not to use thier names here. Especially when they didn't know what they'd be finding inside. "We are looking for a place that serves an exotic dish and-"

"Exotic?" The man's eyes narrowed as if he were smiling. "We've got plenty such things here. Why don't you gentlemen come in and make yourselves at home? I'll get the keys..." The slot closed again. Faramir turned to Aragorn and grinned.

"See? I told you they'd have exotic foods. And he sounds hospitable. I'm sure its just some foreign family-run business with good food."

"How many family-run businesses do you know that are underground and have locked security doors?"

"Well, not that many. But I'm new to taverns anyway, so this could be normal for all I know. And why didn't you use our names?"

"You don't know who could be running this place, Faramir. Is it really wise to let someone know who we are in a place like this?"

"Why not? They're probably just high on security to keep family recipes a secret."

"Family recipes?" Aragorn's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Do you really think they are worried about-"

But the door opened midway through his question.

"Come right in, gentlemen." The man beside the door said, a tall, dark man with a black satin tunic and tight leggings.

Faramir grabbed Aragorn's arm and pulled the reluctant king through a curtain of hanging beads. Once inside, the room was hazy with smoke and the sound of eastern music was playing somewhere to their left. It was hard to make out exactly what was going on around them, except that there were multiple rooms coming from this central one, each one covered with a beaded curtain. The man escorted them into a room, and they both took a seat beside the small table to the left.

"Here's some food." Faramir said, reaching over to a fruit bowl. "Does it look real?"

Aragorn knew that sudden pinch on his rear had certainly been real enough. He spun in place, only to find himself eye level with a woman's extremely well developed bosom.

"Hello, handsome. Are you hungry?" The woman had the largest pair of breasts Aragorn had ever seen, and he started to feel especially guilty about thinking that, especially about having an elven bosom at home to compare them to. And she was fingering his collar in such a way it made him believe there was no way this was his table's hostess either.

"Yes, my lady, we are.' Faramir said, pushing in front of Aragorn. "What we really came for was the Calahadian dish. A cake with berry filling and sweet sauce. Do you serve it here?"

"Calahadian, eh?" The girl raised an eyebrow, but continued to smirk. "We don't get many girls from the mountains, but if you insist, I'm sure I could find someone to your liking." She flicked Aragorn under the chin with her thumb. "And what about you, handsome? Are you here for Calahadian too?"

"Uh, yes." Aragorn said, his voice breaking a little. The woman giggled girlishly. "But you see, we're just here looking for food, not anything else."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She stuck out her lower lip. "You mean we're not to your liking?"

"No, no. Everything's, uh...to our liking...uh, but we have to be going soon anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So either you make the dish or you don't. If you don't, we'll just go."

"I can make anything I want for you." She said, leaning forward and whispering in his ear: "But I'm best at making love."

Aragorn swallowed hard, feeling sweat dripping down his neck. "Oh, is that so?" He said, shaking in his seat. "Uh, you see...I'm married, and, uh..."

"Don't worry. I won't tell." She gave him a wink before heading off behind the curtain.

Once Aragorn knew she was out of earshot, he turned to Faramir.

"We have to get out of here!" He said, grabbing the neckline of his coat and frantically shaking Faramir's collar. "I don't care about the dish anymore, I just want out!"

"What are you talking about?' Faramir said, smiling blankly. "Everyone's been nice, and she said she'd try and find someone to make it."

"I don't think she was talking about making food, Faramir." Aragorn pounded his fists against his forehead. "Doomed, doomed, doomed, doomed-"

"What, you mean the waitress?"

"She **_wasn't_** a waitress."

"Of course she was. She offered us food, didn't she? **_And_** she took my order."

"She thinks you're ordering a **_woman_**! Calahadian cake is probably slang for some Calahadian whore, and berries and sweet sauce can only mean...oh god, I don't want to know." He let out a groan. "The moment someone recognizes us, we're even more doomed than before."

"A woman?" Faramir wore a blank expression. Aragorn seriously wondered if his friend was all there tonight. Then again, he thought, we're tired as hell. "Are you sure, Aragorn?"

"Positive. Absolutely positive. There is no way this is a respectable tavern or anything of the sort."

"Well, even if its a brothel, they're still being kind enough to find someone who can make the dish."

"I doubt she interpreted that as a dish." Aragorn sighed. "We've got to get out of here. If Arwen ever finds out...well, lets just say it will not go well."

"You could always explain the situation to her." Faramir said, biting into an apple. "I mean, if this turns out to be a brothel, which if I may add, I don't think it is, then you got here by accident. Hells, blame it on me if you want." He smiled. "You're innocent by all accounts."

"Try telling that to her." Aragorn said, standing up. "Alright, I've had enough. I'm going to go see if they can make this dessert or not, and then we're going, okay?"

"Already?" Faramir frowned. "But I want to get a glass of milk."

"Order it while I'm gone." Aragorn said, pushing open the curtain and stepping through. "But I'm warning you, if you get a lusty woman named Milk, don't blame me."

"Alright, alright." Faramir rolled his eyes and pushed him out the curtain door. "Go see if you're right already."

Aragorn stepped outside the curtains, peering around the hazy room and seeing if he recognized thier "waitress." A few rooms down, a few couples were emerging from the curtained rooms, some half-dressed and some with simply blankets wrapped around them, heading up two sets of stairs in the back that led, well...exactly where Aragorn figured they led.

"Great." He breathed. "Just as I suspected."

Approaching a blonde girl standing beside the iron door, he asked if they fixed any desserts.

"Oh sure." She said, smirking at him. "We can pour lots of sugar on you. Whatever's to a gentleman's liking."

"Real desserts." He said, "Really real desserts, like food I eat."

"Oh, everything's real enough here." She said, shifting her hips so that her breasts stuck out at an angle towards him. Aragorn avoided looking at them.

"No, no. Food I can put in my mouth, chew, swallow, digest. You know, like bread and beer and everything."

"Oh." The girl's smile disappeared. "Are you out of fruit or something?"

"Well, no, but we were told you fixed exotic dishes."

"Yeah, we fix food, but I don't know how exotic it is." She said, her tone lowering to that of a common girl. She put her hand on her hip and gave him a skeptical look. "What did you want exactly?"

"Calahadian cake, with berries as filling, red ones in particular, and sweet sauce on top, not too much sugar but enough of the sweetness to block out the spongy texture of the cake."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that all?"

"Can I make it to go?" He asked, biting his lip.

"Are you sure you came here for the girls?" She asked.

"No, I definitely didn't." He said, shaking his head vigorously. "Look, I'm a married man with a son on the way who thought this was a tavern. I want nothing to do with sex." He gave her his most convincing look. "Can you help me out?"

"You thought this was a tavern?"

"Actually, my friend did, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I get this dessert and get out of here, as soon as possible and before someone rips my pants off."

She glanced at his pants momentarily, then smiled at him.

"We could do it so you wouldn't notice..." She said, giggling.

He groaned. "Gods, isn't there anyone in this place who doesn't want to sleep with me?" He turned to her. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" She winked.

"Okay, well, not **_anything._** Like if its what I think you're talking about, not at all. But I can **_pay_** you anything. I'm loaded." He pulled a few gold pieces from his purse, and shoved them into her hands. "Can you make it for this?"

The girl stared at the pieces in her palm.

"Are you okay?' She said, looking up at him after a careful scrutiny of her prize. "Because you know you just handed me something like a hundred coins in worth."

"I have silver, too! That'll make a thousand or so..." He pulled it out as well. "Just please, say you can make me the dish!"

"Uh, yeah." She said, pulling the silver from his hands. "I'll make you five if you want." She smiled as she pocketed the pieces. "You said 'to go'?"

"Absolutely." He sighed happily and headed back to the room. Faramir was sipping on a milk.

"Hey Aragorn! If you give a girl a back massage, she gives you free refills on drinks! Pretty nifty service, huh?"

"I got it." He said, smiling as he sat down beside his friend.

"The dessert?"

"Yup. It shouldn't be too long now, and then we'll be home."

"So we have to wait here in the meantime?"

"Yes, and we'll be lying low, okay?' Aragorn pointed a finger at Faramir. "If you want a stable marriage, you'll listen to me. No massages, okay?"

"Fine." Faramir rolled his eyes. "I was only doing them a favor because they work so hard..."

"Don't worry, there's plenty of other men round to give them all the massages they want. Lets keep our married hands to ourselves, alright?"

"Positively alright." Faramir finished off his milk. "So I have to pay for a refill now?"

"Yes, and no tipping either. They take that the wrong way."

"Okay, okay." Faramir threw up his hands. "You're acting like I'm a teenager or something. I think I know when someone's trying to tempt me."

At that moment, a dark skinned woman in nothing but a golden chained bra and skirted thong entered, filled Faramir's glass with more milk, and let her breasts drop in front of his view as she poured the pitcher. She winked before leaving.

"She probably just winked because its funny to see grown men drinking milk." Faramir said, shrugging. Aragorn shook his head with a grin.

"'When someone's tempting you', huh?" He grinned. "Gods Faramir, you awake over there?"

"What, its not her fault they don't buy these girls better uniforms for work! She's grown out of hers and they obviously haven't done anything about it!" Faramir said, throwing up his hands.

"Sure..." Aragorn laughed. "I'm sure Eowyn would say the same thing."

"She would." Faramir said, crossing his arms on his chest. 'Why not? That girl wasn't trying anything on me."

"Yeah, but she would have been on you just as fast anyway." He pulled back the curtain behind him and peered out. The blonde woman he'd just spoken with was whispering something to two dark haired women, who both turned in his direction with wide eyes. Aragorn frowned and looked back over at Faramir. "Something's going on here." He said, glancing back out at the larger room.

"They're getting your dessert, calm down." Faramir said, munching happily on a pear. "I don't think its been that bad."

"I suppose..." Aragorn looked back out, only to have three women run by whispering "Heavy tipper, room four! Hurry girls, hurry!" He squinted into the hazy room, watching as the women began emerging from the curtained rooms and making their way towards his own.

A woman was standing right outside his door now, telling the girl beside her the guests within were rich as hell and eager to tip. The group around her started giggling excitedly. Aragorn moaned.

"Time to go.' He said, grabbing Faramir and yanking him out of his chair.

"What?' Faramir dropped his pear and dug his heels in. "We just got the dessert ordered!"

"And they all got word that I'm a heavy tipper. Which means they all want their hands on us so they can get some extra cash." He groaned. "I've got to get that dessert first."

But just as he stood up, three women had entered and were pressing him back down and into the chair. A girl with long brown hair had climbed into his lap and was stuffing grapes into his mouth, whispering something about extra silver in his ear. Two girls had put a sign on the table saying "Tips Are Appreciated" and were fishing in his pockets for money or jewels as they licked his ear. A blonde dressed in a white slip proceeded to tell him all about her sick family and how she had very little money, how the only thing she earned was from tips and how it all went to her sick folks in the lower city. Aragorn shoved them off of him. But it was no use. There were women everywhere.

"Everybody out!" He screamed, reaching over for Faramir's arm. Faramir's shirt was being ripped off by two dark-skinned women with heavy golden jewelry.

"Aragorn!" Faramir screamed as his tunic was removed. "Help! There's women EVERYWHERE!"

"I know..." He pushed some girls off of him again. "Alright ladies, I'm broke!" He cried, releasing the silver from his pockets and throwing it into the air. The girls in the room let out a cry and dove to the floor, greedily grabbing whatever they could. Some of the guests in the other rooms had stepped out to see what all the fuss was about, and a few men stood laughing at their fellow customers, being run over by girls mad for money. Aragorn made a resolution then and there that never again would he ever carry loose change on him.

The women were all greedy for more tips, and since Aragorn assumed that they must get paid very little, he pulled his purse out from his belt and threw down those silvers as well. Women seemed to be appearing out of nowhere, grabbing at his shirt, his pants, everything. All he could think about was getting out of there before he and Faramir were stripped of everything. Including thier underwear.

Word was spreading, and the room was filled with cries of "There go the rich customers!" and "He's mine!" Suddenly, Aragorn's shirt was ripped down the front, his sleeves were grabbed, and he found himself topless. Faramir was screaming helplessly behind him as he was shoved to the floor and was attempted to be dragged off by over a dozen girls. Aragorn felt his pants being pulled down, but he grabbed a hold of his belt and pulled back for all he was worth. He stared around him, looking for the door. He could see the staircase to his right; he shoved two women off of his side and slowly made his way through the sea of women. He grabbed Faramir's arm and pulled him with him. Faramir started crying as a woman removed his shirt and ripped his leggings up the front.

"I'll never look at another woman for as long as I live..." Aragorn muttered to himself as he pushed up the stairs, dozens of girls following after him.

"Aragorn! I lost my shirt!" Faramir cried as his tunic was ripped from him and the pockets were checked. "They took my shirt! They took my shirt!"

"Me too..." Aragorn said, looking forlornly at his bare chest. Thank god he'd be able to change before Arwen saw him.

Once at the top of the stairs, Aragorn pushed the door open, never having felt better in all his life to feel a cold breeze on his face. He looked up just as Faramir let out a happy cry.

"Look! It's one of our guys!" Faramir said, indicating a black coach coming towards them, a silver tree engraved on its door.

"Thank the gods..." Aragorn said, and opened the doors as it pulled in front of him, hurrying inside. "Someone must have heard we were down here, and sent a coach."

"That was close." Faramir said, grinning as he looked out the window of the coach and at the girls hurrying after them, moaning angrily at the door. The inside of the coach was pitch black, but Aragorn suddenly recognized the familiar smell of elven flowers to his right. He bit his tongue and let out a long sigh.

"Hello, Estel." Arwen said, her voice icy cold.

"Oh, uh...hi there, Arwen. Uh...you found me...and, uh, thanks for the coach..."

"I'm glad I could have been of help. Looks like you boys were having a rough time." She touched his bare arm. "Lost your shirt?"

"Uh, yeah..." He swallowed nervously. Oh damnable goddess...he was in for it now. Faramir was staring at his hands, biting his lip.

"Well, that's all one can expect in a BROTHEL."

And then she just let all hell loose.

"WHAT BY THE GODDESS WERE YOU THINKING, ESTEL! YOU WENT TO A BLOODY WHOREHOUSE YOU IDIOT! GODDESS-KNOWS WHAT YOU WERE DOING THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT TO THINK YOU COULDN'T EVEN KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON! DO YOU APPRECIATE ANYTHING THAT OUR MARRIAGE MEANS? I ASK FOR SOMETHING SIMPLE AND YOU END UP IN A BROTHEL! HONESTLY, WHAT DOES THAT SAY ABOUT YOU! I CAN'T TRUST YOU ANYMORE THAN I CAN TRUST A THREE YEAR OLD! YOU'RE GOING TO BE A FATHER IN TWO MONTHS AND THIS IS HOW YOU SHOW YOUR RESPONSIBILITY! BY ENDING UP IN A BROTHEL! WITH YOUR CLOTHES RIPPED OFF!" She stopped and fell silent for a moment. Faramir was wincing in his seat, closing his eyes and biting his lip until it left a mark. Aragorn was staring at his feet, feeling suicidal. Lectures from wives can do that, he thought.

And then Arwen started up again. She was hoarse by now, so she didn't yell, but she continued the lecture. "I honestly don't care about the dessert anymore. I had a servant bring some leftovers up and I felt fine. But to think you ended up...here...is beyond me."

"Your Highness, I can explain-" Faramir began, but Arwen held up a hand.

"I really don't need to hear any excuses from either one of you. I don't WANT to hear what happened, I just want to know it won't happen again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, absolutely." Aragorn nodded enthusiastically. Faramir followed his lead.

"Well, that's good." Arwen said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her pointed ear. "Now, I'm exhausted and my throat feels horrible, so I don't want to be spoken to until breakfast tomorrow, alright?"

Aragorn nodded. "Absolutely. Whatever you want, you can have it. Anything at all, darling, I swear."

"Oh, shut up." Arwen said, rolling her eyes and laying back in her seat, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

"She's going to be a good mother." Faramir said softly once Arwen was asleep. "My mother didn't yell at me nearly enough."

By the time they were back at the palace, Arwen was sleeping on Aragorn's shoulder. Faramir was snoring loudly in his seat, his head up against the window. Aragorn was still awake, staring at the moon out the window. It was almost daybreak, he thought, seeing the red haze on the horizon.

The coach stopped, and Faramir woke up with a snort.

"Bananas?" He asked sleepily, but Aragorn shook his head with a laugh and pushed his friend out the door.

'We're home, numbskull. Now, get to your bed before your wife has a fit."

"Oh, she's probably still asleep anyway. She sleeps like a log." Faramir said, yawning and stretching. "Sorry about tonight, Aragorn. I didn't realize that would get you into so much trouble."

"It's fine. She'll forget about the whole thing by tomorrow morning."

"I hate to tell you this, but it IS tomorrow morning." Faramir said, heading up the marble stairs. "Good morning, Aragorn."

"Good morning to you too." Aragorn said, waving goodbye. He picked up his sleeping wife and slowly carried her up the stairs, shifting his weight as they headed to their room. He was surprised, but even with the baby, she didn't weigh as much as he had expected. As he laid her on the bed, he smiled at her face, so calm and beautiful as she slept. Kissing her on the forehead, he took off his boots and slipped into bed beside her, taking her hand in his. "Good night, Arwen." He whispered to her, and then closed his eyes. Just as he had started to fall asleep, he felt a kick in his side. "What?" He said, turning to her, his eyes wide. "What do you want now?" He asked, letting out a sad sigh.

"Just kidding." She said, winking at him and giving him a grin before turning back on her side. Aragorn groaned and lay onto his pillow just as the sun began to shine through their window and the first cocks began to crow.

For all the perks of royalty, he was starting to miss the bachelordom of rangerhood.


End file.
